


The Long Way Home

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alec's a good guy, Although he's more like the Robin Hood of the oceans, Blood, F/M, First Time, M/M, Mentions of Vesper's suicide, Physical Abuse, Pirate and Prince!AU, Pirate!Bond, Prince!Q, Q's just trying to do the right thing, Severe Homophobia and Homophobic Violence, Swordfighting, family violence, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There are some rumours that the Aston’s set sail again.”</p><p>Q immediately stopped talking, his wonderful mind grinding to a halt as his eyes widened.</p><p>“Are they true?”</p><p>“They’re rumours.”</p><p>“Eve. Are they true?”</p><p>Eve paused, analysing Q’s reactions.</p><p>“I heard it from Tanner.”</p><p>Q’s breath rushed out of him.</p><p>“He’s alive.”</p><p>“That ship wouldn’t sail under anyone else. Commander Bond has, once again, come back from the dead.”<br/>James Bond was the most notorious pirate on the water. He left destruction and cannon-smoke wherever his ship sailed, and he was famous for never being caught. He was a shadow, which slipped into other shadows, setting the world on fire with his loyal crew. They were outcasts in all the lands.</p><p> *** </p><p>Q is the Heir to a long-neglected kingdom.</p><p>His father, the King, cares nothing for his subjects, and even less for his interfering eldest son.</p><p>And there are rumours that the pirate ship the 'Aston' sails once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The News

 

Q lifted the bag higher onto his shoulder and pulled his hood further over his head before he slipped through the door. No one ever guessed that there were two sides to the castle. All they saw was the gaudy, royal colours adorning the flags that flapped in the salty wind coming from the docks. All they saw were the processions and the feasts, golden carriages pulled by strong horses fed better than them. All they saw was the crown. They would never know that the castle’s walls were hollow, that a whole other world was underneath the ancient stones. Q presumed that no one in his family had given a second thought as to how the servants got around without being seen, delivering meals and taking away scraps. But he knew.

The inner tunnels were only a secret from the monarchy, and although Q was one of Them, he kept their secret well. Not that any of them knew that the hooded figure walking through the tunnels, ducking away from the lamplight, was their Prince and Heir. Q enjoyed his privacy far too much to let anyone inside the castle know that he knew all the passageways, and not just the ones hung with tapestries.

Gradually, the crowd began to thicken and Q was forced into an alcove as four servants made their way past him carrying his brother’s card table. Q watched them go, and hoped that his brother would entertain the King for long enough for his absence to remain unnoticed. He was a horrible liar, particularly when his Father’s guards looked at him with their hands on their swords. Yes, it would be better if his Father forgot him today.

Q made his way through the heavy traffic at the palace’s southern gates, and pointedly looked away from the guards. Luckily, a donkey had become unhitched from its load and was causing a ruckus on the far side, allowing Q to slip past them. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh air that never truly filtered through the castle’s stained glass windows before making his way down to the docks.

 

 ***

 

Eve looked up, her hand immediately going to her dagger when she heard the knock on her small, wooden door, but she relaxed as the recognised the rhythm. The door opened and closed softly and she tutted as Q lowered his hood.

“You’ll get caught one day.”

Q merely grinned at her, shrugging off his bag and laying it on the table in front of her.

“Not today.”

“You should at least wear a sword.”

“You know perfectly well that I think that carrying one invokes curiosity and resentment.”

Eve let it go, and eyed the bag.

“You know I don’t like accepting charity.”

Q knelt down by the fire and poked at it, encouraging the lazy embers to lick up the logs.

“And I keep telling you, it’s not charity, Eve.”

“Q-”

“No! You got injured fighting off raiders that would have otherwise ransacked the city. This is your payment for your services to the Kingdom.” He looked at her, his eyes gone to pleading. “I can’t do much. Not yet, anyway. Let me do this.”

Eve sighed and opened the bag, trying to hold herself back from clawing at the loaf of bread she found.

“How’s it going?”

Q sat back and watched the fire flicker.

“Worse. He’s not even paying attention to M anymore, much less any of the other advisors. I can’t even figure out what he’s going to do next. And it’s worse outside, too.”

Eve looked at him, a warning in her eyes, but Q shrugged it off angrily.

“There are children, starving and begging, Eve. On the streets that are my inheritance. These people are my responsibility!”

“Not yet, they aren’t. And it’s not like you want it, anyway.”

“Of course not, but a monarchy is what we’ve got, and I’m going to do a damn better job than my Father. No one will die from starvation or cold under my rule.”

Eve’s eyes turned sad as she took in Q’s determined expression. That boy was too naïve to understand that, no matter his intentions, he couldn’t protect and feed a whole city, and especially not one as damaged as this one was. But then again, if someone could produce miracles, it was the Prince.

“How’s the invention coming along?”

Q’s face immediately split into a grin and he rattled off the list of things he’d done since they’d last talked. Eve was an old friend. She’d worked in the castle as a member of the guard, one of the few women allowed such a distinguished role, and she’d developed a soft spot for Q. He really wasn’t that much younger than her, but while her hands were stained with violence, his were more suited to the tinkering and the creations he spent so much time on. Honestly, the things that boy came up with were astounding. Weapons he’d designed for her had saved her life on many occasions, including the one that ended up with her getting injured enough to be removed from active service. Q kept promising her that his Father wouldn’t forget her loyalty, that he’d find her another position, but that was months ago. She knew Q was risking so much to sneak down and deliver her food and sometimes money, but she would die without it. She was a proud woman, but valued her life over her dignity. She waited until he took a breath and told him the only interesting news that had breached her small house.

“There are some rumours that the _Aston_ ’s set sail again.”

Q immediately stopped talking, his wonderful mind grinding to a halt as his eyes widened.

“Are they true?”

“They’re rumours.”

“Eve. Are they true?”

Eve paused, analysing Q’s reactions.

“I heard it from Tanner.”

Q’s breath rushed out of him.

“He’s alive.”

“That ship wouldn’t sail under anyone else. Commander Bond has, once again, come back from the dead.”

James Bond was the most notorious pirate on the water. He left destruction and cannon-smoke wherever his ship sailed, and he was famous for never being caught. He was a shadow, which slipped into other shadows, setting the world on fire with his loyal crew. They were outcasts in all the lands.

“Where?” Q asked Eve.

“On the Eastern borders.”

“When?!”

“A week ago. I tried to send a message to you, but I didn’t know…”

Q waved off her apology, rising from his chair.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. He could be here in days, even less with the wind we’ve been having. My Father has to be told.”

“And how do you plan on telling him you heard it from me? If he knows you’ve been out of the castle, he’ll kill you!”

Q gave Eve a quick smile as he kissed her on the cheek and checked on the fire once more.

“Eve dear, I’m a member of the Royal Family. It’s treason to kill me.”

He winked at her and shut the door behind him.

 

 ***

 

He walked quickly back to the castle, through the servant’s entrance and into his own quarters, making sure that no one saw him. He untied his cloak from around his neck and threw it on a chair and left his room, marching through the corridors until he got to the Royal Hall, where his Father resided during the afternoon. The guards opened the door, glaring as he walked in.

The King was seated at the head of the long table situated in the middle of the room, his golden crown shimmering across his forehead, standing out against his black hair. The rest of the table was taken up by men Q recognised only from the few social events he was forced into. None of his normal attendants or advisors were there, not even M, the King’s friend since before Q was born. The chatter stopped as Q entered the room, the rowdy table falling quiet at the sight of the Prince.

“Your Majesty,” Q said, dropping into a bow he’d spent his childhood perfecting.

“What do you want?”

The words were spoken roughly, and Q almost winced at the slur in them. He was drunk. Again.

“I’m afraid I have bad news. The _Aston_ was sighted a week ago, along the Eastern borders. Bond’s alive.”

His father stood up quickly, the chair falling to the ground behind him. He walked around the table, and Q noticed the sword swinging at his side.

“You lie.”

“Sire, it’s the truth,” Q said, keeping his gaze respectfully lowered.

“And how would you find out about something like this? No don’t bother to answer,” he said as Q opened his mouth. “You think I don’t know about your strolls outside the castle? You think that I can’t see the shit from the streets clinging to your boots when you deem yourself good enough to return to my home?”

Q reminded himself to hold his ground as the King continued walking towards him, until Q could smell the wine on his breath.

“Does it make you feel better? Spending time with the commons? Do you feel more like a man when you don’t have to think on your education, on anything I’ve taught you about ruling? When you can ignore the disappointment you’ve caused your family? Your brothers are so strong, I never knew what went wrong with you, to make yourself want to lower into the company of the dogs.”

The men at the table laughed loudly.

“They’re not dogs.” Q barely whispered it, but his father heard.

“What?”

“They’re not dogs.” Q looked him in the eyes, his green meeting the steely grey. “They’re your subjects, you’re meant to look after them and they’re dying against the castle walls! You sit here and eat and drink and abandon those that in your care! You call me weak, but I’m trying to do something that you fail at for every second you wallow in your throne: I’m trying to help them! My mother-”

The fist came out of nowhere, smashing across his face and sending him sprawling on the cold stone floor. Q’s vision swum as his head bounced, his cheek burning. He forced his eyes back open and saw his father towering over him, his sword pointing directly at Q’s heart.

“How dare you.”

The steel slit open Q’s shirt and he felt the cold steel on his chest.

“You know nothing about your mother, just like you know nothing about this Kingdom. It would fall apart in your hands. The best tutors, the best schooling and you throw it away to play with the peasants, or with those toys in your bedroom. When you’re outside you may think you have power, but you cannot command me.”

The sword moved so it rested against where his shoulder joined his neck.

“Henceforth, you will renounce your title of Heir and you won’t leave the castle again. I’ll personally visit your quarters tomorrow and if I find a trace of these objects you’ve been working on, any sketches you’ve done, I’ll have them burned.”

Q had to try one last time.

“Bond’s coming back, he’s-”

The sword flashed down, splitting the skin around his shoulder. Q writhed against the pain as his blood wet the tiles beneath him. Finally, the King lifted the sword.

“Get out of my sight.”

Q crouched for a moment, regaining his balance as blood dripped down his arm, before walking swiftly back to his room, ignoring the rush in his head. When he got there he slammed the door, wincing as it pulled on his arm. He opened his closets and took out a shirt, using his dagger to cut it into strips, and set about tying it over the wound on his shoulder. He cursed as the knots went tight, sending stinging jolts down his arm and across his neck. When it was taut against his skin, Q automatically moved to his desk and picked up his latest work. It gleamed at him, so close to being completed. His father’s threat echoed in his head.

Q blocked it out, and got to work.

 


	2. The Break In

 

A knock on the door resounded in the cabin.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Alec, his First Mate, stepped into the room.

“We’ll arrive just after nightfall,” Alec said, collapsing into a chair on the other side of Bond’s desk, swiping the rum off the table.

“Perfect timing. We’ve been lucky with the wind,” Bond said, eyeing Alec as he skulled the bottle.

“Some’ll call it luck.”

“Don’t start.”

Alec shrugged and sank further into the chair, putting his feet on the desk. Bond pushed them off and straightened up the map he’d memorised long ago, tracing the best routes across wild waters with his forefinger. When the bottle was empty, Alec broke the silence.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Same as usual. Break in, get as much as you can, leave the civilians out of it.”

“And the peacocks in the castle?”

Bond looked at Alec steadily.

“They’ve let their people die. If you find one, kill them. Tonight we take no prisoners.”

“And after?”

“We’ll turn North.”

Alec hesitated.

“If we continue going West from here-”

“No.”

“Bond-”

“No.”

“James.”

“Leave it, Alec.”

Alec relented and stood up.

“I’ll deliver the orders.”

Bond stood up too.

“I’ll steer us in.”

They made their way out the door and onto the lower deck, the crew scurrying out of their captain’s way. Bond’s coat snapped against the wind as he took over the wheel. The sun was setting, and Bond saw the first star, his North Star. He moved the ship so the Star was on his right and continued westward.

 

 ***

 

The Aston slipped into the bay well after the last lamp in the city had been blown out for the night. It was quiet, the sound of water caressing the ship’s hull almost indistinguishable from the waves cresting on the shore. Bond directed her into the last docking point on the wharf and gave the silent order to drop the anchor. It hit the water with a splash that had Bond cursing under his breath. Except for Alec, who stayed at his side, the crew backed away, not wanting to be in their Captain’s line of anger.

Once the ship had settled Alec laid a plank across the stretch of water, connecting the ship to the dock. Bond drew his sword, checked the pistol in his belt, and flitted across, moving through the night like a shadow. Alec was right on his tail, and the crew followed behind him. They made their way through the city without a sound, entering through the Southern gates, the servant’s gate, knowing that no one would be there. The castle was badly guarded, Bond noted. Either the King had a death wish, or he was too oblivious to notice the danger he’d created for himself. They pressed forward, through the inner workings of the castle.

Bond stopped outside a door and listened for a moment, before opening it slowly. The felt the slight give of a string being pulled and ducked, pulling Alec down to the floor next to him, but nothing happened. Nothing shot at them, and no alarms could be heard. Bond reached out and found the string. It had been against the opening of the door, so something was meant to happen if it was opened, but nothing had. Bond stayed still for another second before shrugging and getting to his feet. If there was another fault in their security, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.

They continued on through the main corridors, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps.

“Alec,” Bond breathed and his First Mate leaned closer to him.

“Take the Northern Quadrant, get John and Wesley to go East and South, I’ll follow through with the Western. Meet back at the ship with whatever you can find.”

Alec nodded and turned to relay the orders. At the next doorway a group split off, followed by the second and the third, until Bond was left alone with the whole castle in front of him. He continued along the passage until it widened into a hall. It looked like a dining area, with a long rectangular table in the middle of the room. Bond’s eyes swept across the table, and he picked up four of the silver candlesticks, placing them inside his coat. He turned to leave when he saw a dark splotch in the ground. He knelt and tilted his head. Who had spilt blood in the castle walls? A surge of anger swept through him as he thought again of the innocents left to die by negligence. He rose and made to march out the door when something else caught his eye.

A huge painting hung over the entranceway, a perfect portrait depicting a family. All of them wore crowns. Bond stared at it, analysing the royal’s faces, so he knew who he could take his wrath out on. The King was framed arrogance, and a few of the younger children equalled his stern glare, but there was one… Bond was almost drawn to the face standing at the King’s right hand side, the eldest, Bond realised. The Prince and Heir.

He had the same black hair that adorned the heads of the whole family, but there was something different. The painter had captured the self-importance of everyone in the family, except for him, the one who, by law, should have had it most. The bright green eyes looked almost sad, definitely uncomfortable, and held a dignified, quiet intelligence the other members lacked. He was beautiful…

Bond shook his head. Of course he was, he was probably painted every day with his warm clothes, standing in front of the royal coat of arms. Bond wondered how many this boy, for that’s all he was, had killed. Hundreds? Thousands? Did he sit in his chambers and eat the food that his future subjects were dying without? His hand tightened on his sword. The boy would look prettier with his throat cut.

Bond stepped out of the hall and was about to continue around the castle when a shout, and a bell tolling made him spin. That was an alarm.

He cursed and broke into a run. If the guards knew they were there he had seconds until…

They found him.

Four guards rushed towards him, yelling and raising their swords. One came down with a pistol shot and the next two were cut open before they knew what was going on. The fourth one had held back, though, and was circling Bond warily.

“Come, now,” Bond said, watching his attacker’s feet, waiting for him to spring. “You know who I am, and you know the stories. You look brave, with your cape and armour, but I’ll let you in on a secret. Every tale you’ve heard about me is true. You can turn and run now, and I won’t kill you - you can’t help who you work for - but if you fight me, you will die. Just like your friends.”

The guard hesitated and Bond started lowering his sword, driving his words home.

“Go. It’s not cowardice, it’s life.”

The guard blinked, and broke out of his reverie, lunging at Bond. He barely got his sword up in time, deflecting the blow rather than parrying it. The grunted as the tip swept over his arm and he felt the sting of a new cut, followed by the warmth of his own blood. Bond swept his sword further to the side, pushing the guard’s sword with it, until it hit the wall. The guard staggered forward, and fell straight into the point of Bond’s weapon. Bond saw the man’s eyes look up at him in fear, until they went blank.

Bond pulled his sword out and wiped it on a tapestry.

“Time to go.”

 


	3. The Escape

 

Q leant back in his chair, admiring his new invention.

It was done.

A year’s worth of research and building was finally complete. He didn’t think he’d ever been prouder.

His smile fell slowly as he remembered he wouldn’t get a chance to show it to Eve, much less have it used for what it was made for. He sighed and thought about going to bed when a small chime from underneath his desk made his breath stop.

He ducked down quickly, seeing it was the third bell from the left before straightening and crying out. His shoulder was burning. He looked at it and grimaced as he saw the blood oozing through his roughly-made bandages. He’d have to do something about that… Later.

Because the castle had just been broken into.

The first time Q noticed that the King’s guards weren’t protecting him, but rather protecting his Father from him, Q had rigged up a security system in the corridors around his bedroom. Each night he crept around after it was dark and hooked up tiny bits of string, each connected to a bell underneath his desk. If any doors were opened, he would know immediately.

The third bell from the left… It was strung up around the door from the servant’s tunnels that lead towards the Southern gates, the one he’d used that very morning. The one closest to the dock…

Q’s eyes went wide as he frantically tried to calculate the wind speed for the past seven days.

Could he be here? Could it be the pirates from the Aston? Was Bond in the castle?

Q weighed his options, and then snuck out the door. He had to see, just to check…

He crouched against the corner of the corridor, listening for anything, his heart thundering in his ears. Moments stretched into minutes, and Q started convincing himself that he simply imagined the bell tolling when he heard a tiny scuff of boots on a rug. Whispers snuck through the darkness.

“… Take the Northern Quadrant… I’ll follow through with the Western... Meet back at the ship...”

Q didn’t breathe until the whispers faded completely.

It had to be.

Did he just hear James Bond speak? Was that deep, gravelly voice the voice of one of the most dangerous pirates in the land? It didn’t sound… Well, no, it sounded dangerous but there was something alluring about the texture of it, as if it was the sound of temptation…

Q stood upright, holding onto the wall as his head span. He put his hand gingerly on his shoulder and scowled when it came away dripping. He didn’t have time for this now!

He skipped past his room and into the servant’s passages, hiding easily in the darkness, keeping silent, wary of any more intruders, but finding none. He paused as the corridor split into two, the pirate’s words skimming through his brain, before turning west and heading deeper into the castle.

 

 ***

 

Q walked for what seemed like an age, listening for any sound and ignoring the growing pain in his shoulder. When a sound came, it was much louder than expected. A shout rang through the walls, followed by the ringing of one of the great bells, signalling the alarm. Almost immediately a clash of armour ran by in the corridor next to him and Q heard the sound of a pistol shot, followed by the clashes of steel on steel, and three thumps as something heavy hit the floor. Q stood frozen.

“Come, now,” that same voice said again, sounding infinitely more persuading. “You know who I am, and you know the stories. You look brave, with your cape and armour, but I’ll let you in on a secret. Every tale you’ve heard about me is true. You can turn and run now, and I won’t kill you - you can’t help who you work for - but if you fight me, you will die. Just like your friends.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Go. It’s not cowardice, it’s life.”

The clash of metal resounded through Q’s head, and he jumped back as something hit the wall closest to him. A fourth body slumped to the ground.

“Time to go,” Bond (because it had to be) said, before running up the hall.

As Q headed back to his room, he realised that he hadn’t even thought of raising the alarm. He hadn’t spared a thought for his Father, or his brothers. He paused in his doorway, but he knew he’d already made the decision. He grabbed his new invention, tied his plain cloak around his neck, strapped his dagger to his belt and sprinted back into the corridors.

 


	4. The Introduction

 

Bond met up with Alec, John, and half of Wesley’s group at the docks. A quick shake of Alec’s head was all Bond needed to know. No one else would be joining them tonight. Bond marched his crew across the plank and pulled it back on board, calling for Alec to raise the anchor. Lights were appearing around the city and the further away they were from the dock, the better. Alec and John hauled the anchor up and stowed it before turning back to Bond, who was striding up the deck.

“Tom,” he called out. Only the sea answered back.

“Tom.” Bond said again, the rest of the crew stilled as they sensed the familiar dread. Tom was meant to be protecting the ship while they were in the castle. Where was he?

“Tom!” Bond tried for a third time, and was answered by a low groan coming from a pile of ropes on the starboard side. Bond hurried over and hauled the man out and onto the deck as consciousness crept back into him. Bond looked at Alec, who was inspecting a lump on Tom’s head.

“Someone’s on the ship.”

The crew split up, dividing themselves between the upper and lower decks, fanning out to catch the intruder. Alec and Bond took the main cabins, holding their pistols in front of them as they moved around the small corridors. They broke into each room, one by one, shining a lamp in before moving on. Bond heard some of the crew start returning to the deck, their search turning them up empty-handed. He huffed as he and Alec approached his office. What was this person doing?

“One, two…”

They burst into the room only to find that the lamp was already lit, filling the room with light that reached into every corner. Bond blinked. Someone was leaning on his desk, staring down at his maps.

“Hands in the air,” Alec growled, moving forward, but Bond’s hand on his chest stopped him. Alec looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Go back up top. Get us out of the harbour.”

Alec knew better than to question his Commander. The door swung shut behind him.

Bond sized the other man up. He looked slightly older than the portrait he’d seen not twenty minutes previous. The only difference was this man’s face was nearly empty of colour, his hair was absent of a crown, and his cloak could have belonged to any commoner. He hadn’t moved since he’d entered the room.

“You do realise what you’ve done, don’t you?” Bond kept his voice calm. He knew that it was more terrifying.

“Broken onto possibly the most famous pirate ship in the land and stowed away in the Commander’s office? Yes, I am aware.”

The man’s voice was gorgeous. All sharp consonants and rounded vowels, brimming with confidence that Bond was surprised he still had. After all, it wasn’t like he had the upper hand.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

An eyebrow cocked up.

“Just one?”

Bond ground his teeth together. What was he playing at?

“You won’t kill me.”

Bond let out a bark of laughter.

“You sound so certain.”

“Because I am.”

“Well, you must be mistaken. You might be the Prince and Heir up on that stone hill of yours, lording it over your suffering populations, but here you’re on my territory. With my rules. And my judgement. Sire.”

Bond spat out the last word as an insult, but the man didn’t flinch.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Commander Bond.”

He was staying so calm, Bond thought. He was being threatened and having the royal protection ripped out from under him and he wasn’t even blinking. Either he had a trick up his sleeve or he was the most ignorant man Bond had ever come across. And frustratingly enough, Bond didn’t know which one it was.

“Am I? Give me a reason,” he demanded again.

“You won’t kill me because I knocked your guard unconscious. It wasn’t hard, by the way, he was asleep. But that in itself is enough to impress, at least the sheer audacity of it rather than the actual act. You won’t kill me because you weren’t going to kill that fourth guard in the castle.  I’m here for a completely different reason than you believe I am, and I also have something you need. But that isn’t what you’re mistaken about.”

“What is it, then?”

The man looked at him slowly, letting the other side of his face come out of the shadows. Bond’s forehead crinkled for a second before smoothing out, but his mind was racing. The entire side of his face was a long bruise, an angry shade of red and purple. Bond was well-acquainted with injuries of all kinds to know that it was recent, and the slight mounds were from knuckles. It would be there for a week at least.

“What happened?”

He shook slightly and put his hand on the desk for support as another bit of colour drained from his face.

“I am no longer the Heir to the throne.”

Bond shook his head.

“Who did this?”

He smiled a pained smile.

“The only person who can get away with it.”

The King, Bond realised. Well. This was unexpected. He looked away from the bruise to his face, which he was surprised to see was layered with worry.

“You’re hurt.”

Bond remembered the sword-slash and looked down at his arm. His sleeve was spotted with blood. Nothing major. If only the other man would stop looking at him like that. With concern.

“Can I-?”

The man reached forward, but Bond had his sword out in a flash, pointing it at the stumbling figure before him. The Prince held up his hands in surrender and then flinched, pulling his left arm back down quickly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Can I wash that for you?”

Bond looked at him incredulously.

“No.”

“It would be incredibly inconvenient to me if you were dead, Commander.”

“It takes more than a scratch to kill me.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“What happened between you and the King?”

The other man took a deep breath and swayed again.

“You’re right, he doesn’t care. He’s sent away all his advisors, even his most trusted friend. He won’t listen to anyone. He’s drunk and rude and betrays his people whilst he shirks his duties. He hasn’t considered me as his son for a long time, I constantly disappoint him, but he only revoked my title this afternoon.”

“What did you do?”

The man smiled that hurt smile again.

“I was trying to warn him about you.”

“So he hit you.”

“There may have been other words said.”

“How did you know about me, and he didn’t? Do you have different spies?”

“No. My friend at the docks heard news when the Aston passed the Eastern borders a week ago. She told me this morning.”

Bond frowned. Something wasn’t making sense.

“You had someone come up to the castle and tell you that I’d been seen?”

“No, Commander. I visit her as often as I can. The King dislikes me leaving the castle. He thinks poverty is contagious.”

“You… You go down to the docks. To visit someone you count as a friend.”

“And here we’ve come to the crux of the matter. I’m not my Father, anything but. I don’t want to rule, I think a dictatorship passed down from father to son is wrong. Do you know how many brilliant and unheard of ideas there are in the heads of the general populace, that aren’t allowed to be said merely because of their birth? What gave me the right to live better than everyone else? With food on my table while others starve, with blankets and fires while others freeze, those who are meant to be in our care? It’s appalling. But a monarchy is what we have, and I was the Heir. I made an effort to get out of the castle, because I wouldn’t have let people die under my reign. When it was going to happen, that is. My brothers are as bad as the King, just taking every comfort for granted and not caring about the rest.”

“So you’re here to escape?”

“No! Won’t you listen? There has to be something better. There has to be a better way to rule a kingdom, one that doesn’t paint it as an inheritance. You go everywhere. There isn’t a land you haven’t been to, a sea you haven’t sailed. Take me with you, let me learn. Let me do something for them.”

Bond hesitated.

“You don’t get it, do you, Commander? You see your men? Your crew? They trust you. They follow you into castles filled with guards, into almost certain death. And they do it because you’ve earned their respect, and that’s how leadership should be. Earned, not given. I figured it out, Bond. You only raid kingdoms that have been abandoned by their rulers. You don’t hurt the innocent. You steal, but you give it to those who have nothing. Help me do this. Help me help them. Please.”

Bond couldn’t move. Everything he’d said was true. Hadn’t Bond had the same argument with people, over and over again? About monarchies versus giving power to someone who knew how to wield it so it benefited all? Wasn’t that the point of all this? He lowered his sword. The poor man across from him was shaking, dragging in breath like it hurt.

“You said you had something for me?”

The man put a hand into his cloak and Bond tensed, but he only pulled out a small cylindrical shape that gleamed in the light. Bond edged closer.

“What is it?”

“I call it a compass. You use the sun and stars to navigate, don’t you?”

Bond nodded.

“The North Star, always.”

The man laid it on the desk and Bond saw a needle spin round in circles until it finally settled to a stop.

“That’s North,” he explained. “It will always point you in the right direction.”

Bond stared at him.

“How…?”

“I made it.”

Bond’s face finally broke into a rugged grin.

“I’m going to regret doing this, but welcome on board.”

He reached out and clasped the man’s left shoulder.

The man gasped and buckled to the ground. Bond looked at his hand. It was red. He was on his knees in a second, ripping the man’s cloak off. His shoulder was drenched, bandages that needed to be changed hours ago swam in the blood on his skin. Bond’s mind dragged up the image of the blood on the tiles in the room he’d seen the portrait in. No, surely the King wouldn’t have…

“Ah,” the man said weakly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bond said, comfortingly, shaking the man slightly, trying to get him to focus. “You never told me your name.”

Green eyes were hid by fluttering eyelids and Bond shook him again.

“Q,” he breathed as the last colour left his face, collapsing into Bond’s arms.

 


	5. The Mistake

 

Q came back to himself one sense at a time. He was lying on something soft, and unbelievably comfortable, with his head propped up slightly. There was a constant rocking movement that made him want to fall back asleep, but he ignored the feeling, inhaling deeply. The sharp tang of salt was in the air, almost overwhelming, and never ceasing. He could taste it on his tongue. The sound of the ocean slipped through his ears and filled his mind. Where was he? Was he at Eve’s? But she couldn’t afford the luxury of a comfortable bed, no matter how much money Q had sneaked underneath the rock-hard pillow… So?

He opened his eyes.

He was in a room he’d never seen before. Quite large and made entirely of wood. He was on one side of a large bed and his shoulder was wrapped with fresh bandages. Q winced as he remembered the pain… And the break in… And… He sat up, too quickly as his head spun, and turned to face the window.

All he could see was water.

He was on the Aston.

Q tried to slow his breathing as leant across and grabbed a mug on the bedside table, taking a guess and draining it. Thankfully, it was fresh water and soothed his aching throat. As soon as he felt able he pushed the blankets off himself, ignoring the painful twinge in his strapped shoulder and the fact that he was wearing someone else’s clothes, and swung his legs down. He staggered forward as the ship rocked, knocking himself against a wall. The room was moving, (or was that his head again?) and he heard a door open. That man… the one that was searching the boat for him with Commander Bond entered the room.

“Alright there, Q. Nice to see you’ve woken up. Give me a moment, I’ll go tell Bond. Try not to break anything.”

He closed the door behind him.

Q leant on the wall, trying to remember last night’s events clearly… But was it even last night? How long had he been asleep? There had been so much blood, the sun shining through the porthole could easily not be tomorrow’s, but the day after, two days? Had the King noticed he was gone? Had his brothers? What would Eve think when she heard the news? Would she guess? Q gasped as the boat rocked again, sending him against the wall shoulder-first. The door opened again.

“Steady there, Q.”

Bond’s voice was in his ear as strong hands wrapped around his waist, all-but carrying him back to the bed. When Q was sitting down, Bond appeared in front of him, kneeling between his legs, his hands still on his hips.

“Commander,” Q said, finding his voice.

“Good afternoon, Q,” Bond said, smiling. “And call me Bond, or James. It’s easier.” Bond looked him up and down. “So, regretting your decision yet?”

Q lifted his chin defiantly, trying to ignore how Bond’s hands were massaging his hips, circling around the prominent bone, only to look into Bond’s eyes instead. Q’s answer died on his lips as he took in the blue paradise that he could happily drown in. They weren’t the colour of sea, but of the sky on a perfect summer’s day. Q blinked and cleared his throat, all too aware that the silence had stretched on beyond natural.

“I rarely regret my decisions, Bond.”

“Glad to hear it. How are you feeling?”

Q surveyed himself quickly.

“Not as bad as I thought I would be. How long have I been asleep?”

“Four nights, including your first. I’m getting some food brought down for you.”

Q frowned.

“That seems like quite a long time.”

Something unidentifiable flew across Bond’s face.

“I was concerned I’d lost my navigator before they’d even started.”

“Navigator?”

“Well, you didn’t think this was going to be free transport, did you?”

Q smiled.

“Of course not.”

Once Bond had spooned some broth into Q’s mouth, which made Q feel like a child, he was finally allowed to move about. Q made his way through the maze of tiny corridors slowly before he came out onto the deck. He went to the railing and held on tightly as he looked around.

They were completely surrounded by sea. It was sparkling, as if welcoming him into the sunlight.

“I can’t see any land,” Q said, turning a full circle. Bond was next to him, watching him warily.

“You probably won’t for another few weeks. Some people can find it overwhelming,” he warned. But Q lifted his face to the sun, his bruise in the process of fading into a deep green and yellow, and closed his eyes. The sun warmed his skin, and then went deeper, lifting his heart out of the years of hiding in the castle, under his Father’s watchful gaze. The laughter started deep in Q’s chest and soon tumbled out of his mouth, layering over the ocean. He opened his eyes to see Bond smiling at him, but the confusion was easy to read in his eyes.

“I’ve never felt this free,” Q said, simply, looking back over the water again, missing the way Bond’s eyes shone.

 

 ***

 

Much to everyone’s amazement, Q took to the ship quite well, slipping easily into the dynamic of the crew and making himself useful. After the first few days of acquainting himself with the routine, Q all but locked himself into Bond’s study, scrutinising the maps, making small markings that didn’t seem to make sense until he joined them up, forming new routes around the rocky and shallow waters he’d memorised from his studies in the castle. After his third conscious day on board the Aston, Bond wandered in holding a plate of steaming food that made Q’s stomach growl.

“You missed dinner,” Bond said, looking over the parchment on his desk. “And your arm’s not meant to be out of the bandages yet.”

Q didn’t look up as me wrote a calculation down carefully, murmuring to himself. Bond took a step closer, reaching out to touch Q’s good shoulder.

“Q?”

Q jerked back, eyes wide, before he recognised Bond and relaxed.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You weren’t at dinner, I thought I’d bring some down. And I’ll re-strap your shoulder, you should stop taking it out.”

Q took the food, huffing.

“I can draw better without it, and it’s not bleeding anymore.”

“Q,” Bond said, warningly. Q looked at him.

“I just want to be useful.”

Bond allowed himself a small smile and leant his hip against the desk.

“You are useful. Look at everything you’ve done!” He waved his spare hand across the expanse of maps. “These new routes will cut days, if not weeks, off previous voyage times. Not to mention your compass keeps us dead on track, even if Alec still can’t figure it out.”

“But this is only what I can remember. I’m not convinced I’ve missed some bloody great rocky shoal that won’t take the hull out of Aston, and even if I have miraculously remembered it all, it’s only a tiny part…” Q trailed off, looking a little hopeless. Bond reached out again, this time taking his long fingers in between his own.

“It’s more than I could ever hope for, and it’s more than what I would have if you hadn’t trespassed onto my ship.”

Q smiled a small smile.

“These past few days are more than I’d ever hoped for, Bond. Thank you.”

“James.”

Q tilted his head.

“Pardon?”

“Call me James.”

Q smiled again and gently removed his hand from Bond’s calloused one, taking the plate and settling into a chair.

“How goes the travel?”

Bond sat opposite him.

“Good, we’re making unbelievable progress. We’ll need to stop in at the next port though, restock.”

Q didn’t frown, but Bond read the worry in his eyes.

“You won’t be recognised there, Q. I promise. And even if something happens, Alec or I’ll be beside you the whole time.”

Q nodded, grateful.

“You’ve not seen the sky today, but it looks like a storm will hit tomorrow morning. Nothing to be concerned about, but I’m going to have to leave the nightshift for Alec, so I can take the wheel fresh in the morning.”

It took Q a moment to realise what Bond was saying. When it hit him, a delicate blush tinged his cheekbones. He’d been sleeping in the same bed that he’d woken up in, only to find out it was Bond’s own room. The Commander had taken each nightshift since then, so although they shared the room, they had yet to be in it at the same time. Q was vexed he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“Of course, I’ve trespassed in your quarters long enough. I’ll bunk with the crew.”

Since a number of men hadn’t made it back the night they’d stormed Q’s castle, there were hammocks to spare.

“I don’t want you to feel as if you’re being thrown out. I have no aversion to sharing.”

Q’s blush deepened and ran down his throat as he unknowingly licked his lips.

“Your hospitality is overwhelming Commander, but I wouldn’t want your crew to become presumptuous or questioning towards your intentions or mine.”

Bond smirked.

“You know your speech gets incredibly eloquent when you’re flustered.”

Q’s eyes dropped to the ground.

“I’ll sleep with the crew, Commander.”

Bond’s smirk grew impossibly wider.

“What? All of them?”

Q looked up at him, completely lost and slightly panicked. Bond couldn’t help but laugh. There was something to be said about playing with someone who’d never experienced it before. When Bond laughed, Q relaxed, but tension continued to resonate through his shoulders.

“Q, I’m joking, it’s OK,” Bond said, as he realised that Q was still looking at him warily. Q let out a breath and bit his lip, immediately capturing Bond’s attention.

“Back… In the castle… If someone were named a homosexual, they weren’t killed at once, but their life would be done. No one would trade with them, no one would speak with them, because their names would be passed up to the King. They would be used as bait, and there was nothing anyone could do. Eventually a soldier would knock at their door when they’d stopped being useful, ready to take their life, if they hadn’t already done it themselves.”

Bond stared at Q, whose green eyes were shining slightly brighter.

“Excuse me if I missed your jest, Commander.”

Q picked up the now-empty plate and nodded courteously as he left the study.

Bond sat for a minute staring at the door before he got up and went to his quarters. He stayed up reading until the lamp burned low, convincing himself that he wasn’t waiting up for Q. When he heard the tread of the heavy boots of his crew move towards the far end of the ship he sighed and blew out the light.

 


	6. The Explanation

 

Q waited deep in the passageways of the _Aston_ until he heard the tell-tale footsteps of the crew retiring for the night. Only when the sound of the ocean stroking the wooden hull was left, did Q resurface onto the deck. He leant against the railing and looked out over the moonlit water. The scent of a storm was in the air, making his head feel like it was slowly being squeezed.

“He doesn’t do this, you know.”

Q looked up to see Alec standing next to him, a hip on the side of the boat, his arms crossed.

“Aren’t you meant to be steering?”

“Aren’t you meant to be smart?” Alec countered, earning himself a confused frown from Q.

“Bond doesn’t trust people, and certainly not one’s he just met.” Alec paused, before adding softly. “And, honestly, he doesn’t see royalty as people, anyway.”

Q felt himself stand taller, slipping back into the posture he’d been forced into all his life.

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, you’re different.”

Q cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Alec sighed and turned to watch the water, not meeting Q’s eyes.

“A few years back now, James met a woman. She was… She was beautiful, that’s for sure, and she was from your kingdom, worked in your father’s Treasury. She was introduced to James as someone he could trust and he did, fully. He’d barely known her a month before he told me that he was going to give the _Aston_ to me, and move back to your kingdom with her.”

Q couldn’t believe it. Even a few years ago, the stories about Bond spread far and wide, and although they were often filled with women, there wasn’t a rumour about a particular one.

“What happened?”

“We made our last stop before heading to their new home, to a small port James sees once a year. We always make sure we have enough to cover their taxes. We stayed for one night and in the morning all our money for the township was gone. Turns out James’s women was someone else’s. She betrayed all of us, but it was his heart that caught the full blow. In the end she threw herself over this very rail and drowned and there was nothing James could do.”

Q’s eyes were stinging, but he resolutely didn’t look at Alec.

“Sometimes, when we have a good wind, I wonder if it’s her, trying to make things better, but James won’t hear of it, of course.” Alec sighed. “What I’m saying is that I was convinced James would never let his heart out again. And then some royal prat barged onto the ship and proved me wrong.” Alec punched Q’s arm playfully, before turning serious again. “I’m not forcing you into anything with Bond, but just… Give him a chance, won’t you? He deserves at least that.”

Q stared deep into the water, trying to read answers on the white crests of the waves. The moon shimmered on the ocean, its reflection wavering as the _Aston_ sliced through the water. When Q turned back around, Alec was gone.

A wind picked up and soon Q was shivering. He spared the moon’s reflection one last glance, before turning around and heading back under cover.

 

 ***

 

Bond was dozing, in a place between wakefulness and dreams where he could almost control the wash of images that threatened to drown his mind. Swords flashed and water surged onto a beach, depositing the body of a once-beautiful women, a once-trusted lo… Knocking tore through the picture and his eyes were open in an instant.

“Come in.”

He reached over to the bedside table and lit the lantern as the door opened quietly and Q slipped inside. Their eyes locked, green and blue, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

“I never told Father.” Q leant back against the closed door. “He would have killed me before rumours got out of the castle.” Bond didn’t say anything. “I think one of my brothers guessed, there were only so many marriage proposals I could turn away without someone getting suspicious, so it was only a matter of time.” Q laughed half-heartedly. “I really was a constant disappointment.”

“The King wanted a younger copy of himself. That doesn’t make you wrong, Q.”

Q smiled a sad smile before making his way slowly to the opposite side of the bed. He sat down and spread the covers underneath his hand.

“If we were back in his kingdom, James, and you were just another person and not a pirate, and I had seen you in court or in the streets, I would have avoided you at all costs. If anyone had even hinted at such a thing between the Prince and another man, they would have disappeared, followed by you, and with my death last.”

“So you’ve never been with anyone?”

“I would never risk someone’s life for a few moments of my pleasure.”

Bond looked at him with a gentleness that Q could never have guessed the pirate possessed.

“Do you want to stay?”

Q looked at the Commander, his eyes wide and his thoughts spinning. James wasn’t wearing a shirt and the dull light from the lantern lined his muscles, his scars and Q felt his mouth go dry. But the threat and the fear that had hung over him since he was a young teenager held him firmly in place.

“Just to sleep, Q.”

It was the small, comforting smile that did it in the end. Q pulled back the covers slowly and slipped inside, shivering as he was cocooned in the cold material. James blew the lantern out and Q felt the bed dip as he settled down. He flinched when a strong arm wrapped around his torso, but James whispered reassurances in his ear and all too soon Q began to drift off, the warmth of Bond anchoring him against the rocking movement of the ship. Bond fitted himself easily around Q and waiting until his breaths evened out in sleep before he pressed a gentle kiss to his hair.

 


	7. The First

 

Q dreamt of strong, calloused hands and blue eyes that smouldered. He dreamt of a warmth that was enveloping, without being suffocating, and he dreamt of a smile that split through darkness like a candle, like a star. He felt himself being pulled from the dream and fought against it, not wanting the pleasant heat to end, but the rocking of the _Aston_ and the sound of waves slapping against the hull drew him back to consciousness. He smiled when he recognised James’s body lining his back, pressed from shoulder to ankles, with one strong arm thrown over his stomach. James murmured something in his sleep, slipping into a soft groan halfway through and Q felt the arm around him pull him even closer. He tensed when a hard length pressed against the back of his thigh.

“James,” he whispered, not knowing what to do.

Instead of rousing the Commander, Q’s quiet word caused him to growl, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and going straight to Q’s cock. He could feel his own body responding and was torn between running as far away as possible, or pushing back into the heat. His logical mind reminded him that he was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. There was no point in running. And his Father wasn’t here. This was James’s ship, with James’s laws. No one would get hurt… No one would die if just this once…

James rolled his hips forward and Q exhaled shakily at the contact. Should he wake him up? What was the correct conduct? Should he ask Alec? Q berated himself silently.

“Stop panicking. Just wake him up. Do it. Now.”

Q rolled over, trying not to shift James’s arm, shuddering as James’s clothed cock brushed against his shirt.

“James,” Q said, just louder than a whisper, reaching up to cup his stubbled cheek. “ _James._ ”

James was still for a moment before his eyes flew open. It only took a second for him to snatch his arm away and tumble out of bed.

“Shit. Sorry, Q. I’m sorry.”

“James, it’s fine. I-”

“No, it’s not! After last night and… God, Q, I’m sorry. I’ll go outside and-”

“James!”

He finally stopped and looked at the man lying in his bed. His hair was mussed from sleep, and the remnants of a dream slipped from the corner of his eye, but he was flushed and there was a distinct bulge behind the laces of his trousers.

“Why don’t you come back to bed, James?”

Bond swayed towards the bed, but his feet refused to move, all the reasons why this was a bad idea running through his mind.

_“New. Scared. Hurt. Prince. Royalty. Vesper.”_

“Please.”

The posh voice he could listen to for weeks interrupted his thoughts. Q held out a hand.

“I know I’m safe here, with you. If you don’t want to do anything, that’s fine, but I’m safe with you.”

“We don’t…” James took a step towards the bed. “Have to…” He took another step, touching Q’s open palm his fingers.

“We’ve got time,” Q answered, with a compelling smile that blew the last doubts from his mind.

James leaned down and kissed each of Q’s fingertips and his palm before taking two of his fingers into his mouth, running his tongue between them and pushing into the web of his skin. He felt the fingers twitch against his cheek and Q licked his lips, watching him intently. Q slowly drew his hand back, forcing James to step forward, and then kneel on the bed. With a nip to a fingertip, James let Q’s hand fall away and studied the man in front of him. His green eyes were blown wide and a pink tinge stained his cheeks. He swallowed dryly before leaning in, broadcasting his intentions, until his lips gently brushed Q’s own. He saw Q’s eyes flutter shut before he hooked his arms around James’s neck and pulled him roughly onto the mattress. James fell with him and placed a hand beside Q’s shoulders, momentarily ignoring the fact that Q had removed the bandage again, before closing the gap between them and kissing him deeply.

Q kissed back whilst trying to pull James further down. James resisted for a moment, enjoying the feel of Q’s nails scrabbling at his back, before he pressed himself onto Q, trapping him against the bed. Q whined as their lengths slotted together, trying to buck up, but James’s weight kept him still.

“Pants,” Q said shakily, but as he opened his mouth, James swept his tongue inside, silencing Q with the new sensations of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, his tongue, being explored and caressed. Without thinking, Q caught James’s tongue between his teeth and sucked on it, trying to bring it even closer. James moaned and ground his hips down, and Q bit down on his tongue, hard, before gasping.

“ _Sorry_ , I didn’t mean to-”

“Q,” Bond growled, licking the curve of his ear, feeling Q shudder beneath him. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

“ _Pants_ ,” Q whined again, squirming desperately as he tried to escape the fabric between them.

James felt the beginnings of his orgasm stir he watched Q writhe beneath him, tearing at their clothes. _Christ_. This boy, this man, with his black hair and flushed skin, his enthusiasm, and the knowledge that all this was _new_ …

Q’s breath caught as their clothes finally fell away and James pulled him into his lap, flashing him a grin before gently wrapping his palm around the two of them, pulling upwards and twisting his hand around the heads.

“James, I’ll- James, _ah_!”

He felt Q tense, before he let loose a hoarse scream as he came, falling forward onto James’s shoulder, his whole body quivering. James let Q’s cock go and worked his own until he came, mixing the mess splashed between them. James let Q fall into his chest, holding him close as he brought him back until they were lying on the bed again, waiting for him to return back to awareness.

Eventually he stirred, blinking slowly, allowing James to admire the contrast of his eyelashes on his fair skin. A moment later, Q shifted, almost as if he were trying to roll away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Q frowned.

“It’s well past daybreak. We’ve not eaten, and Alec’s been in charge on deck for the whole night. The rear sail needs mending, and I wanted to check the compass before the wind picks up.”

James smiled and simply pulled Q back into his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

 

 ***

 

Remarkably, nothing changed. Q was on edge for the whole day after he and James’s… tryst, expecting crew members to leap at him swords-drawn, but nothing happened. Well, except for Alec’s constant smirk, but that was easy enough to ignore. It was strange, to be involved with a group of people that he grew up believing to be demons, if not devils, were so accommodating to newcomers who couldn’t participate in their boastings about women. Or about fights they’d won, or friends they lost. Q, however, did provide amusement for them all when Alec had convinced him to try rum. It was stronger than his Father’s wine, and seemed to make the boat sway even more. Eventually Bond took pity on Q’s diminished dignity and took him back to their quarters, only to have Q talk at him for the next hour, detailing the superfluous courtesies he was taught as a child.

“I just never understood _James_ ,” Q had slurred, running his hand absentmindedly down the Commander’s leg, pulling the pant leg up until it was tight around James’s muscled thigh. “Why do I have to kiss a female’s hand, but not a man’s? Why is it different? If it’s so patronising to kiss a man’s, isn’t it as awful for a woman?”

Bond nodded sagely, trying to keep focused on the conversation.

“Also, why are women never taught how to use a sword or lance? Do they not also need to defend themselves? Are we expecting those that are named enemies to be merciful to those unable to defend themselves, when they want to kill those that can?”

Bond smirked.

“Now, now, aren’t I a named enemy?”

 “You’re not _my_ enemy,” Q said, before ducking to lick hotly at the back of Bond’s bared knee. Bond’s whole leg twitched, narrowly missing Q’s face, as he felt a spike of heat travel straight through his cock.

“ _Gods_ , Q!”

Q looked up at him from under his dark eyelashes.

“I’m sorry James.”

“No, you’re not, you little sea-monster.”

They hadn’t done anything since that first morning, other than James occasionally brushing Q’s knuckles with his lips, if only to see the fine blush tinge his cheeks in the noonday sun, and sharing the bed whenever Alec had the night watch. Even then, Q would curl in close, until James wrapped him up into his chest, and fell asleep against James’s heart, and James didn’t have the nature to wake his new navigator when he clearly needed rest.

The effects of the newfound celibacy reared its head as Q mouthed wetly down his calf, nipping at the muscles, almost reaching his ankle before James reached around his torso and hauled him back towards the pillows.

Q seemed to be confused for a moment as he found his surroundings changed, but adapted admirably, turning his lips to James’s throat.

“ _Q!_ ”

Q hummed at him while he sucked a purple mark over a pulse point, sending his heart jumping.

“Q, stop!”

“Why?” Q murmured, breathing hot air over the bruise. “I want to, James. I want you.”

“As do I, Q, but not now.”

Q fixed him with a baleful glare.

“Don’t patronise me, Bond.”

“I’m not! It’s just-”

“If you say I’ve had too much rum-”

James caught Q’s face in between his hands, cradling it gently.

“Q. Listen to me. I know you’re not drunk. But you’re not sober. And I don’t want you to have a drop of alcohol in you, I don’t want you to be distracted by anything.”

He leant forward slowly, until their lips grazed together. He felt, rather than heard, Q’s sigh.

“For a pirate, you have unbelievably strong morals.”

James just laughed, and pulled Q closer.

 


End file.
